Under The Influence
by next
Summary: Everyone enjoys a drink now and then. The conversation that comes along with the drinks is all part of the enjoyment....Please read and review!
1. Omelettes and Beer

_**Author's note:** This is not supposed to be angsty. Probably a two shot, maybe three at the most. Just playing around with some ideas whilst skiving from college. I don't own Bones, etc. By the way, the Special Merit thing is completely made up. I have no clue what FBI agents get when they do well at their jobs. I guess a T for slight innuendo, to be safe. __Smashed, wasted, wrecked. Completely gone, off your face, pissed out of your head, out of it. Just a few definitions of drunkenness. Probably most are Britishisms (is that a word?). These places are where I go when I'm a little tipsy, so I thought I could apply it to our favourite characters. If I can't let me know!_

Booth was thinking. He was thinking about how his life had come to this point. This was an unusually contemplative thought for him, or it would have been, had he been completely sober.

He had come home that evening after a successful day at work, feeling relatively happy that one more criminal was off the streets of Washington D.C.. As he walked in his front door and threw his jacket over the chair, he relished the warmth of his apartment. The oven clock had read 19:30, early for a workday that ended in an arrest. He mentally planned the rest of his evening, thinking of the omelette he would make himself, of the beers he would drink and the game he would watch. Monday night football, gotta love it. The omelette was kind of out of character for the evening planned, perhaps some ribs or buffalo wings would be an improvement. Even better, Booth mused, why don't I just go the whole hog and go out tonight? Go to a sports bar and sit himself down at the counter, making conversation with other men doing the same thing he was, watching the game and drinking beer.

Booth decided against that idea, not least because that would require getting dressed into clothes worth going out in. Also, the idea of an omelette, not the stereotypical foodstuff that went with watching the game, was making his mouth water.

So his evening had progressed. The game had ended in his favour, the beers had been drunk, the plate licked clean. And now he was sat on his couch, listening to some Bon Jovi and drinking shots of whiskey like they were as strong as soda. It took a lot to get Booth's head fuzzy, but the whiskey was helping him get there faster than he had expected. As the song 'It's My Life' started to play Booth's thoughts turned to the philosophical.

_So, _Booth thought, _my life has been kind of weird since I got out of school. I mean, it was exciting, hell, it's still exciting. I just don't think that when I was sitting in Biology class, which I should have listened to more really if I want to keep up with Bones, daydreaming about my future as a star football player, I ever considered that I would be here, doing this job and having had this history. _

Booth's eyes fell on a painting of a house, a sun and two people, one large and one small standing together holding hands. The colours were bright and the sizes disproportionate; it lit up the small kitchen in which it was placed.

_And a son as well! I never would have expected Parker to come along when he did. And I'm so glad he did come along. _

Booth's mind continued to wander over the highs and lows his life had taken, in a rather meandering, increasingly slow fashion before finally slumping over in his coach and falling into a deep sleep.


	2. Wine and Dull Conversation

**_Author's note:_** Thanks for getting through to this part, although the next chapter is my favourite. Hope you like it...let me know!

Brennan was sitting in a restaurant opposite a rather handsome man, who, despite being attractive in a sexual way, was somewhat arrogant and was, unfortunately, numbingly dull company. Since her escapades in previous weeks, Brennan had taken Booth's advice and had decided to look out for someone with whom she could spend the rest of her life with. Not that she would easily admit this to Booth, of course. Although she still believed that monogamy was really quite an archaic ideal and that there was nothing wrong with dating two men at once, she did appreciate the point Booth had been trying to put across. So here she was, not looking for the One, exactly, but looking for someone who, in the short term, could fulfil her standards in all areas.

"It really is getting quite late and it's a Monday night, I have to be getting going," Brennan said, interrupting her date's spiel on his favourite movie of all time. Was it Apocalypto? Or maybe Acapulco Now. She wasn't sure, and wasn't really that bothered that she wasn't sure either.

"Aw, you sure? Because it's only 10-30 and I was hoping we could go out for more drinks at the new bar up the road..." her date replied, wheedling.

_Drinks,_ Brennan thought, _now that's an idea._

"No thank you, I'm sorry but I do have to be up early tomorrow. Thanks for coming though, it was nice meeting you," Brennan replied, hoping he wouldn't be clingy or needy.

"Oh okay then, I'll have to go without you. Some other time though?" her date said, already standing up to leave half of the money owed on the table.

"Er, yes, well, we'll see," Brennan replied, slowly edging away from the table, though she was still sat down.

Her date bent down to give her a cursory kiss on the cheek before leaving quickly, without looking back once to check if Brennan had actually left to go home and to bed. She saw him stride away, pulling his phone out once to check the time, or delete her number permanently from it, and enter the bar a block up the street.

Brennan sighed and turned back to face the now empty table. She felt disappointed and relieved at the same time. She could partially understand other women's claims of there being 'no good ones out there'. A half empty bottle of wine shimmered in the candlelight restaurant.

_No sense it going to waste, _Brennan thought, and tipped the bottle into her empty glass. Deep red liquid filled the large glass almost to the top. She sipped the alcohol slowly and allowed the warmth to travel down into her stomach.

_Well, well, well, Temperance, look where you are now. Sitting in a restaurant alone, getting smashed on red wine. How upmarket of you. _

Brennan took another sip and stopped thinking. It wasn't like she did this often. She would finish this bottle of wine, enjoy its effects, catch a taxi home and go to sleep. With this reassurance she sat back in her chair, revelling in the warmth of the restaurant and in her stomach.


	3. Sangria, Scotch and Weird Conversation

**_Author's note: _**My personal favourite chapter, glad you have managed to get here. Hope you enjoy. Please review.

Across town, Booth stirred awake. His tongue was glued to the top of his mouth. As he tried to unstick it, he downed the remaining whiskey. His tongue became unstuck satisfyingly only for another sensation to make itself known.

Man, he needed to pee.

Booth shuffled across to the bathroom and sat down to pee, an event that seemed to last a lot longer than usual. When he had finished he returned to his place on the couch with a bottle of scotch and a clean glass. He began pouring some more, because things were becoming clearer and slightly cooler, as well as a bit more painful. He sipped the scotch, enjoying the sharp flavour. His eyes wandered over to a framed certificate of Special Merit for Outstanding Contribution to National Policing. His mind returned to the contemplative thoughts he had been having before his nap. The oven clock shone 23:15. He needed to speak to someone about what he was thinking about. Someone who would _get _what he was saying, who would understand how weird it felt to be experiencing life at this very moment and all its wonders...

He rang Bones.

Bones' cell rang as she was ordering a glass of Sangría from the waiter who had kindly taken way all the dirty plates and glasses. Brennan was feeling ridiculously pleased that he had done that, as if it was a personal favour just for her. She grinned toothily at him and was about to say something appreciative to him as she pulled out her phone, until she saw the caller ID. Smiling, she snapped open the noisy thing and trilled a happy "Hello!" down the phone before giggling to herself.

"Hey Bones..." Booth slurred, glad she was in a good mood.

"Whats up, Booth? Whassup? 'Sup?" Brennan replied, giggling again.

"'Sup? Did you actually just say 'sup to me?" Booth was surprised that she was so receptive to his call. By the time he had thought this though, she had already replied, "Yeah I did mister, whatcha gonna do about it?"

Booth shook his head and quietly said, "Woah," to himself as he shifted his position on the couch. The world was spinning, but if he looked straight at it, nothing was happening.

Brennan cut in, "So, 'sup Booth? Can you tell I'm all alone and decided to comfort me? 'Cause you are a bit freakily pyschic when it comes to that stuff. Or did you call me to tell me we have a case. Because I'm really not in a fit state to be looking at bones right now." Brennan just realised the word bones sounded really weird when she said it a certain way, "Bo-ones, bo-ones, bo-ones," she repeated, until the word lost all meaning in her mind. "Okay, I'll shut up now," she said to herself, closing her mouth tightly.

The fact that Brennan was alone didn't register in Booth's mind, "Nah we don't have a case, don't be _si-illyyy_, I just wanted to _talk_ to you about _life_ and stuff," Booth said expansively, waving his free arm around like a conductor. "'Cause I been _thinking_ how _we-ird_ it is how our lives have turned out the way they are, do you know what I am saying?"

"Why is it," she mimicked Booth's pronunciation of the word, "_we-ird_ that our lives have turned out they way they have? Isn't that what lives are _supposed _to do?"

"Yeah, but no, what I mean is is that when you were younger you always thought your life would be different than what it is now! I mean, you thought that your parents would be around, and I don't mean to be dragging up bad memories or anything and that you might be a prima ballerina with a pet pig or whatever you wanted to be, and _I_ thought that I would be a pro football player with a pretty wife and lots of cash in the bank, but we aren't, we're in a different place and it is just so weird, but in a _good_ way obviously but in bad ways too. But isn't it just _weird?"_

"You need to stop saying weird, even though it is a good word," Brennan replied, not quite catching his drift. She played with her glass and picked fruit from the bottom, sucking on a slice of orange.

"What's that noise?" Booth asked as suction noises came along the line.

"I'm sucking someone. I mean_ something,_ I meant something.." she replied quickly, before laughing loudly.

"_Bo-ones!"_ Booth exclaimed, stretching her nickname out to three syllables.

"_Wha-at?_" She replied innocently, mimicking his tone.

"You know wha-at! Right, as I was saying, don't you think it is really weird how our lives are so different to what we expected? It's like, it's like..." he drifted off, losing his place in his head and unable to find it again.

"It's like looking back on a river. You can see the source and you can see the twists and turns, the large meanders and the fast rapids. But you can't see forward. You can only look back. Sometimes it is like you are at a specific point in the river and you can look forward and see the twists your life has made so its completely different from where you first thought it would go. I understand what you're saying Booth. It's definitely a weird feeling."

"Yeah, but why is it so weird?"

"I don't know, it just is. But I understand how you are feeling about life. I get like that sometimes, although I _never ever_ wanted to be a prima ballerina. I wanted to be an astronaut."

"An astronaut? That's _cra-azyyy _Bones."

"Says you, the pro football player, how unoriginal is that?"

"Unoriginal? Come on Bones, chicks love a pro. Plus, the game's really fun."

"Chicks? What, baby chickens? Why would they love professional football players?"

"You _know _I mean women Bones."

"I don't like professional football players and _I'm _a woman."

"Yeah, of course you don't, you're too good for them."

"And you're too good for those pro-chasing _chicks_ as well."

Without either of them realising, the conversation had shifted into a place where neither of them wanted to go whilst under the influence. Things became a little clearer on both ends of the line. Brennan had stopped drinking her second glass of Sangría. Booth had put down the scotch. Brennan was smiling into the mouthpiece of her phone and Booth was thinking hard. The silence stretched on, both of the partners waiting for the other to carry on the conversation that could only lead to embarrassment.

Or would it be embarrassment?

An intake of breath over the line. "So we're both-"

Booth heard a clatter before the line going dead. "Hello?" he said stupidly into the dial tone before closing the phone. A second later 'Bones' came up on caller ID.

"Hello?"

"Sorry Booth, someone knocked my arm and I dropped my phone. What were you going to say?"

_Yes, what was I going to say? _Suddenly Booth felt a lot more sober, and a lot like going to sleep.

"Nothing Bones, it doesn't matter. How are you, how come you're so awake and happy? As you can probably tell, I'm slightly drunk," he replied.

Brennan laughed, "Well obviously so am I. I'm such a lightweight these days. I won't even remember this conversation tomorrow. No, I'm fine thanks, just at this restaurant. My date left and I finished the wine left behind."

"Your date left you there? He didn't offer you a ride home?" Booth was indignant.

"No, no, no, I made an excuse and he left. He was breathtakingly boring. So I'm here, drunk and alone."

"Same here. You know, instead of us being alone and drunk, we could be together and drunk. Would save us making stupid phone calls to each other at stupid times at night," Booth said, without thinking.

"I do believe you were the one who called me to talk about the _weirdness _of life," Brennan replied, slurring her words more obviously than before.

"You should get a taxi home Bones," Booth suggested.

"Yeah, I'll do that," Brennan mumbled, "'Night."

"G'night Bones."

Booth shut his phone and stared at the glass in his hand before filling it to half way and downing it in one. He stood up woozily and staggered to his bed. He had sounded a lot more sober than he felt. He smiled to himself, imagining Bones' giggles. With that, he fell sound asleep.

**_Author's note: _**As you may or may not have noticed, I used the word weird a lot there. I just notice then when you are under the influence, everything seems weird, or if not, you use a word similar to it repetitively. That's what I was trying to get across. I haven't really checked any of this so if you see any errors or anything, let me know. I would love some critical feedback. One more chapter to go!


	4. The Morning After The Night Before

_**A/N: Finally I finish it! Haha, I personally think this whole story isn't any good, in comparison to some of the stuff out there, but I needed to finish it and get it out of my system. Enjoy. I don't own anything, blah de blah.**_

The Morning after the Night before...

Brennan arched her back and stretched. Her back was cramping from being hunched over the autopsy table for so long and as she straightened up, her head rushed suddenly and her stomach turned. Her brain felt like it was trying to push its way out of her ears. The warm, fluffy bed in her apartment flashed across her mind, causing her to shut her eyes and sigh. Her head hadn't stopped hurting. Brennan had foregone any pain medication after waking up in a state she hadn't been in for quite a while but was now beginning to think this was an extremely stupid method of handling her hangover.

Beep. Beep. Beep. A shrill noise cut the air. Brennan's head throbbed and her mouth felt dry. One of Cam's machines was done. Or ready. Or something, she didn't really care. She almost staggered from the autopsy suite to her office, falling on her chair and reaching for her desk drawer, where she kept the paracetamol with codeine tablets she had brought across from the UK. She swallowed them with a drag of water from a bottle at least a week old from under the desk and groaned. Her head felt like a herd of elephants were stampeding through her cranium. She rested her head gently on the cool desk and closed her eyes.

Before long, at least, it felt like it hadn't been long; Brennan heard the sound of heavy footsteps coming her way.

"Hey, Bones, wake up," Booth's voice penetrated the fog of Brennan's mind. She lifted her head from the desk and looked at Booth. His normally tanned skin looked pale and by the way his forehead was creased, she would hazard a guess that his brain felt like it was coming out of his ears too.

Booth smiled and said in a tired, quiet voice, "Head hurts, doesn't it?"

"Ungh," Brennan groaned and pulled herself up fully. "It feels like my brain wants to push its way out of my ears," she concluded before leaning back.

"That doesn't sound particularly scientific to me," Booth replied, collapsing into her couch. "Got any pain pills, or water?"

Brennan lobbed them over to him before settling her head on the cool surface of her desk once again.

"Hey, I think these are illegal or something," Booth said, before popping three pills and downing them with a mouthful of water.

"Codeine is an extremely effective painkiller," Brennan mumbled. Booth waited for a continuing sentence but instead heard regular breathing, sleeping breathing.

"Bones?" Booth questioned, sitting up. She continued to snooze, her hair falling around her face and moving gently in time with her breaths. He was just contemplating how peaceful she looked when his phone trilled in his pocket. He answered it with a quiet, "Booth," and murmured a few words down the phone before snapping it shut. They had a body.

"C'mon Bones, wakey wakey," he said, climbing off of her sofa and gently shaking her.

"Ungh," she groaned again, before sleepily rising and looking at him with bleary eyes. "A body?"

"Yep, let's go, let's go," he said, chivvying her out of her chair and into her coat. She moved slowly and took the pain pills and water before following him out of the door of her office.

As they got into his car Brennan said, "I'm never drinking again. I feel horrible. I hope the body doesn't smell too bad, because I might end up compromising the remains."

"What, you mean you hope it doesn't smell like roast pork?" Booth joked, before feeling nauseous. Brennan made another groaning noise and settled back into her seat.

"You know Bones," Booth said as she rested her head against the window of the car, "the offer still stands."

"Which offer?" she mumbled.

"The one I made last night, 'bout you coming round and drinking with me instead of on your own in a restaurant or bar somewhere. I'd never let you feel like this in the morning. You gotta know your limits, because otherwise..." Booth glanced over at Brennan. She was looking at him directly, not asleep as he had thought. He expected a combative response, something like, 'Of course I know my own limits Booth,' or 'I wasn't on my own,' even though she blatantly was.

"That'd be nice Booth," Brennan said. She looked at him for a heartbeat, two heartbeats too long before shutting her eyes and leaning back. "Just not tonight."

Booth laughed and looked back to the road. _That would be nice_ he thought to himself. For some reason, his head hurt a lot less now. His heart even felt slightly lifted in his chest.

_That'd be very nice._

_**A/N: I thought that, in light of The Con Man in the Meth Lab, Booth getting wasted would be quite out of character. Still, it's the premise of my entire story, so I left it in, as if he hadn't had that past with his father. I'm not particularly happy with this story, as I said earlier, so any constructive criticism would be greatly appreciated.** _


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